The Night's Masque
by tiptremble
Summary: AU from mid-point of The Dark World. "The shards began to coalesce, forming once more into a vortex of raw, dark power. He looked to Thor, but his brother watched unmoving, helpless, spent. In a matter of seconds, Loki knew, it would be over."


**A quick thing I wrote because I couldn't sleep. I'll try to continue with it because I have a rough story mapped out, but it could take a while so please bear with me!**

* * *

The universe quaked. Lightning from the heavens bathed everything in ice-white light as it plunged into the centre of the aether. Loki felt the familiar tremor in his gut as he witnessed the power of Thor's hammer. _So undeserved_. But no, it was no good thinking of that now.

The air grew tighter every second, the atmosphere dragged in by the force of the two opposing magics. The mortal beneath him clutched her head and moaned, the pressure no doubt tearing into those oh-so-fragile organs. In the midst of the surrounding chaos Loki summoned a moment to wonder how Thor might manage with a deaf little concubine. He would probably love it – an even _more_ helpless little toy to fawn over.

Thor was visibly straining with the effort to channel the hammer's energies, the chords of his muscles close to bursting from his skin, but it was bringing some success. The aether had shrunk to a speck in the air, a vibrating singularity barely containing the violent spirits that pulsed inside it. Only seconds now.

Loki looked to Malekith and his bodyguards, readying himself to stop any last ditch intervention. But no, they only stood, barely a flicker on their features. They only stood and watched. They just... watched.

Loki started to rise towards Thor. Something was –

The air exploded with noise. He dived back down over the mortal as the earth beneath them burst into the air, engulfing them in dust. He strained to see through the suffocating cloud but a second eruption blew out from the epicentre, this time sucking away the air itself. In the silence of this momentary vacuum time slowed, and for a second Loki looked up to see pinpricks of red light falling through swirling clouds of dust. _Beautiful_.

Then the mortal was shuddering and coughing beneath him, and time had righted itself. Loki assessed the situation. Pieces of the aether littered the ground, sparkling but dormant. Thor still stood, gasping to recover his breath, but otherwise well.

And the enemies. There they still were. Standing tall, unfased. Like him, Malekith was surveying the destruction, and as his head turned their eyes suddenly locked. Another tremor in Loki's gut, much larger than before. Was that a smile?

Something was happening. Light flickered beneath him. He looked down to see it was those pieces of aether, filtering light this way and that as they jerked about and slowly rose into the air.

They flew towards Malekith, who hunched forward to greet them. His eyes glowed. Loki recognised that look. Such intensity only came from one about to greet a long-awaited and much-thwarted destiny. He had seen that look in… well, never mind that now.

The shards began to coalesce, forming once more into a vortex of raw, dark power. He looked to Thor, but his brother watched unmoving, helpless, spent.

In a matter of seconds, Loki knew, it would be over.

 _This will be your only chance._

Loki closed his eyes and slowed his breathing so as to be almost undetectable. He gathered every reserve of dark energy he had. He felt that familiar wash of peace run from his heart to his fingertips. The absolute focus that granted him a peerless command of reality. When he opened his eyes, the world looked… microscopic.

And now he didn't just see it, he felt it. Power, the ultimate power, just metres away. It drew him to it. He could hear its siren song, begging for his embrace. A force that throbbed with a raw sensuality no carnal pleasure could ever hope to match.

He launched himself forward, moving so fast, he knew, that those around him would barely see a shadow in the air – even while his movements felt to him as slow as the flow of treacle.

He was close. As he moved he sensed everything. Every peak and trough of the wind. Every particle of dust still settling from the sky. Far in the distance, an approaching storm. The mortal, shaken but surprisingly calm, waiting. Malekith, pulsing with anticipation. His mutant assistant empty of feeling, a gaping hole in the world encased in terrible armour. And Thor, worn but unbroken, ready to fight to the last, fierce determination threaded with… was that sadness? Regret?

He had arrived. Before him, he saw only darkness, glowing red like a greeting from the gates of Hel. He didn't stop, didn't slow. Driving on without thought, without feeling, Loki plunged deep into the centre of the aether.


End file.
